on Proust!

Combray took me quite a while to finish reading. I complained to my roommate who is much more well-read than me, and she said the long sentences and learning new words throughout were definitely a Proust thing. The ratio of time spent talking about what was happening and the amount of action that was actually happening was one of the highest I’ve seen, I felt as though I read 10 pages and the only event that occurred was that he finally fell asleep. At first, his confusion made me confused, but after watching the video, thinking about fading in and out of someone’s memories made it fun for me.

I ended up loving the feelings that were evoked in me while being in Marcel’s thoughts. Instead of focusing on plot, Proust makes the reader focus on what it feels like to be inside a mind that is constantly remembering, anticipating, and emotionally overreacting to small events. I’m taking a memory class right now on cognitive processes, and it’s interesting to see recall in play. Moments that seem insignificant, like waiting for his mother’s goodnight kiss, become so dense. Even though nothing dramatic is happening, the intensity of his feelings makes these moments feel just as important as any major event.

One scene I found meaningful was when Marcel says he sometimes prefers book characters to the people in his real life. A little kid I used to babysit told me something similar once. I felt similarly when I was younger.Fictional characters feel more dependable and emotionally accessible to him than the unpredictable adults around him. This made me think about how reading can sometimes feel safer or easier than real relationships. Understanding people’s faults is hard.

The madeleine scene ties all of this together. When Marcel dips the little cake into his tea, he suddenly experiences a wave of joy that he cannot explain. At first he assumes it is just because the tea tastes good, but he quickly realizes that the truth is not in the drink, it is in himself. Only after several attempts does he understand that the taste has triggered a buried childhood memory of being given tea and cake by his aunt in Combray. What stood out to me is that he does not decide to remember. His body remembers before his mind does.

This moment suggests that our past is not stored neatly in our thoughts, but hidden in our senses. Smell and taste become shortcuts to emotions we thought were lost. I wear a specific perfume whenever I’m on vacation, and spray it on special occasions at home, and it smells like a rush of everywhere I’ve worn it before. I can’t exactly explain the rush I get and put it into words, but Proust did.

Though Combray was slow at times, it ended up making me feel more than I expected. A good start to the semester, and I am looking forward to getting into reading these books that simultaneously tickle my brain, confuse, and challenge me.